


Built Up Halfway

by stardropdream



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: F/M, Implied Incest, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:57:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fuuma lands in another world and meets a girl who believes him to be his brother. He takes the necessary means to convince her otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Built Up Halfway

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ March 2, 2011. 
> 
> For clarification's sake, this takes place BEFORE Fuuma goes to acid!Tokyo. And some of you will wonder, hey, what the fuck happened to Kotori's Fuuma? And where is Kamui in all this? These are questions I have no answers to, lol. Also note this is NOT a crossover with X!Kotori. This is a completely different Kotori. (Arg so many disclaimers lol.)

  
He opens his eyes in a place different from when he’d closed them. From what he can tell, he’s in a bed and bandaged. He lifts one hand and stares at his once crooked fingers, now set in bandages and splints to work the bones back into properly alignment. He lowers his arm with a sigh and closes his eyes. Perhaps he’d gotten lucky this time and landed in a hospital when he switched worlds.   
  
“… Onii-chan?” a quiet voice whispers somewhere to his right.   
  
Fuuma blinks his eyes open and tilts his head, looking up at a girl he’s never seen before in his life. She’s very pretty, is his first thought. His second thought is that she’s crying.   
  
But when their eyes lock, she brightens up considerably, smiling a watery smile as her eyes mist over. “Onii-chan, you’re okay… you’re awake…”  
  
Fuuma feels the beginning of a pulsing headache but he can’t much complain about it. He stares up at the girl, unsure if he’s supposed to say something, and really not wanting to see her face when he ultimately gives her the let-down of her mistaken identity. She reaches over, however, and takes his hand. Her touch is gentle, mindful of his bandages and wounds.   
  
“It’s been so long… when I saw you, I didn’t think—I didn’t know if… I’m so glad you’re alright—” She’s smiling through her tears, and doesn’t quite squeeze his hand for fear of hurting him further. She reaches out another hand and places it on his forehead, brushing aside his hair. “You still have a fever. Please be sure to rest, okay, onii-chan?”   
  
“I’m not your brother,” he says—the blunt approach usually worked best in these situations. He didn’t know this girl, didn’t know the world, didn’t know anything—  
  
She looks crushed.   
  
“Eh?” she asks.   
  
He hates to explain it to people. He’s never yet run into anyone claiming he’s their brother, but sometimes people catch him switching worlds and then he has to explain. He feels around for his pocket where he keeps the devise he uses to change worlds—and realizes it’s not there. He isn’t in the clothes he arrived in.   
  
“Onii-chan?” she’s asking. “Did you… oh no, maybe you hit your head.” She looks alarmed. “Or you’ve forgotten your memory and that’s why you’ve—”  
  
She reaches out to touch his forehead, and he grabs it before she can. She jumps, letting out a soft squeak of surprise.   
  
“I am not your brother,” Fuuma says, almost fierce, but when she cringes, he softens his voice a little. “I’ve never met you before in my life.”  
  
“But, you…”  
  
“Look like your brother?” Fuuma asks. And sighs. “Of course it was only a matter of time before I ran into someone who knew me from their world.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“I’m not from this world,” he says. He hates to explain. But he has to. And he needs information. He needs to move on and get to the desert world called Tokyo, the one that Yuuko had told him about. “If I had my clothes on me, I could show you how I switch worlds, but—these aren’t my normal clothes.”  
  
She’s blushing.  
  
“Did you change my—”  
  
“I didn’t peek,” she says, quickly, blushing more and Fuuma thinks that’s an odd thing to say, but, then again, he’s never been overly concerned with that, and growing up with his family, a sense of decency was never really necessary.   
  
“I see,” Fuuma says, and smiles. “What’s your name?”  
  
She still looks crushed. The blush fades, and her expression sobers a little. He doesn’t know anything about this brother of hers, but he hopes he isn’t the kind to make jokes like this so that she would fully believe him.   
  
“Kotori,” she says. “It’s Kotori.”  
  
“Kotori-san, then,” Fuuma says, chipper. “Don’t I look a little different from your brother?”  
  
“You look a little older, but I thought that maybe you’d—”  
  
He releases her hand and she takes it back, cradling it against her chest.   
  
“I’m not your brother,” he says and sits up. That’s a mistake, though, and he clenches his eyes shut as his head throbs.   
  
“Onii-chan,” she says.  
  
“It’s Fuuma. Just Fuuma,” he says, but she’s ignoring him, touching the side of his face and watching him.  
  
“Are you in great pain?”   
  
“It’s fine,” he says, softly.   
  
“You should sleep.”  
  
He allows her to push him back down onto the bed, and he sighs, closing his eyes. He’ll deal with this once he feels better.   
  
  
\---  
  
  
Before arriving in this world, he’d had a run in with some wild animals. He’d had to leave in a pinch, and now, here he was, bedridden and at the mercy of a girl who thought he was her brother.   
  
It was almost sad.   
  
He cracks his eyes open and finds the girl—Kotori, he tells himself—is still sitting there, hands in her lap. She perks up when she sees him shift, and she smiles, relieved.  
  
“Onii-chan…”   
  
“Fuuma,” he says, but doesn’t have any firmness to his voice when he speaks. “How did I get here?”  
  
“I… I found you,” she says, and points—towards a window. Outside, there’s a sprawling forest. “In the forest. I’d… you were passed out and you’d lost a lot of blood. I’d thought—”  
  
Fuuma sighs out when she cuts herself off, blinking rapidly to dispel tears. He’s not used to people worrying over him, really. It’s almost unnerving.   
  
  
\---  
  
  
He explains to her, in the passing days, about his life outside the worlds, traveling between them. He does not know if she believes him at first, and seems insistent on believing that he’s her brother, only with amnesia, but after telling her the story, again, he beings to suspect that she does understand, more than she wants to admit.   
  
  
\---  
  
  
“I act differently from your brother, don’t I?” he asks.  
  
“You smile more,” she admits with a little nod. “Onii-chan was always very somber and straight-faced.”  
  
Fuuma thinks that doesn’t sound like him at all, but doesn’t say so. His smile only widens.   
  
“Is that so?”  
  
“But, he was happy! I think,” Kotori insists, blushing. “He was… ah…”   
  
“Where did he go?” Fuuma asks.  
  
She shakes her head.   
  
He doesn’t press it.   
  
  
\---  
  
  
A few days later, he can leave the bed without feeling weak. Kotori seems relieved, but she holds onto his arm as he moves, as if she could support him if he were to stumble. He doesn’t mind the touch—he finds it strange, that someone would be so overly concerned for him.  
  
They’re walking outside, today. Through the garden. Kotori’s hair shines in the sunlight and, Fuuma realizes, she’s very pretty.   
  
He doesn’t stumble, but he does pause. Kotori tightens her hold on his arm and looks up at him, lips parted to ask a question.   
  
He reaches for her with one hand, pushing the hair from her face.   
  
She blinks at him.   
  
_Why would anyone want to leave you?_ he wants to ask, but is surprised by the question—so he only smiles.  
  
“You had a leaf in your hair,” he says.  
  
She blushes and thanks him.   
  
  
\---  
  
  
One night, he finds her crying. She clings to him before he can even ask her what’s wrong, and he doesn’t have the heart to pull her away. He lets her hold onto him, feeling awkward. He lets a hand fall to the back of her head, stroking his fingers through her hair in a way he hopes is comforting, but he isn’t sure—he’s never had to be comforting before.   
  
  
\---  
  
  
“You loved your brother,” he tells her, suddenly, as she’s cooking.  
  
She stumbles a little in surprise, dropping the wooden spoon into the cooking pot. She whirls around to look at him, eyes wide. He thinks that, yes, he was right after all.  
  
Especially when she backtracks and says, “O-of course I do. He’s my brother.”   
  
“No,” he says. “Of course. But I meant, you’re in love with him.”   
  
She’s shaking. He realizes it, distantly, but he does not stand up from the chair he’s sitting in, lounging, to go to her. He waits for her to come to him.  
  
She does. She wanders to him, eyes wide.   
  
She’s smiling, a little wobbly. “Am I… so obvious?”  
  
“Perhaps,” Fuuma says, and shrugs. “Was he in love with you, too?”  
  
Kotori clenches her hands together, coming to a stop in front of him. She looks down at him and, sitting, he looks back up at her.   
  
“I… don’t know,” she confesses, her expression crumbling a little. “I never… told him.”  
  
“Would you have?” Fuuma asks.   
  
“I don’t know,” she admits.   
  
“He’d be silly not to,” he decides.   
  
She looks alarmed. “Ah, but—”  
  
“You’re someone he’s known almost his whole life. You’re kind. You’re pretty. What’s not to like?”  
  
She’s blushing.   
  
“It doesn’t—bother you? That I…”   
  
He shrugs one shoulder. “Kotori-san has never met my family.”   
  
She appears to puzzle over that concession, but Fuuma does not elaborate. She does not press him. Her hands twist together, and she still looks nervous.   
  
He reaches out and touches her wrist, tugging her a little closer.   
  
“It doesn’t bother me,” he says, “if you love your brother as more than a brother.”  
  
She closes her eyes, nodding. She looks relieved.   
  
“Thank you…”  
  
“No reason to thank me,” he says, surveying her hands, holding hers with his own and comparing the sizes, the shape of fingertips, the lines across her palms.   
  
“Even if… you aren’t my brother,” she whispers. “I still…”  
  
“Yes?” he asks when she trails off.  
  
She shakes her head. “No—no, it’s nothing.”  
  
She turns away, hurrying back to the stove and finishing the meal. Fuuma stays where he sits, watching her back, watching the slope of her hair, the curve of her spine as she works. He watches her every move, commits every movement to memory. She’s a very pretty girl, he realizes. He thinks it’s a shame that another him would have reason to leave her.   
  
And he finds his own thoughts interesting.   
  
“Hm,” he says.   
  
“Onii-chan?” she asks, turning around to blink at him—she still calls him that, even though he’s established, and she understands, that they are not related.  
  
He smiles at her. “Nothing.”   
  
She smiles back and, a few minutes later, presents him with a bowl of soup. She sets it in front of him, leaning over him. She pulls her hair away from her shoulders, bundling it up so it tumbles down her back.   
  
He traces his eyes over the lines of her neck and the tilt of her shoulders.   
  
He shifts his attention to the soup.   
  
  
\---  
  
  
“I’ll need to leave soon,” he tells her, and hates that, for once in his life, he is hesitating.   
  
She looks surprised. “Ah, but…”  
  
“I can’t stay here forever, Kotori-san,” he says, and he knows his smile is sad. It’s never been sad before, not like this. “There are places I need to go.”  
  
“I… yes,” she whispers. She looks down. “Of course.”   
  
He doesn’t apologize. But, he lifts his hand, tilts her chin up, and leans in to kiss her. Her lips are soft, and she parts her mouth in surprise. He kisses her very lightly, the fingers around her chin shifting to trace her jaw and pillow against the back of her head, curled into her hair.   
  
And then she kisses him back, fingers curling into his shirt, holding him close and kissing him back enthusiastically.   
  
But just as quickly as she kisses him, she pulls away, eyes wide.   
  
And then she runs away.   
  
He does not follow her.   
  
  
\---  
  
  
A few hours later, in the dead of night, he is thinking that perhaps he should cut his losses and just disappear.   
  
But then the door to his bedroom opens, and Kotori is there, peering at him, hesitant.  
  
“Kotori-san,” he greets, smiling.   
  
She bites her lip, and then steps into the room. Her hair is down and she’s wearing a nightgown. Her hand lingers on the doorframe.   
  
“What is this?” he asks.  
  
But she doesn’t answer. She moves, suddenly, going to his side. She grabs him by the sides of his face and tugs him down, kissing him firmly on the mouth. He is, for once, completely surprised.   
  
She deepens the kiss, and this surprises him more—but only for a moment. He curves his arms around her, and holds her to him, kissing her back.   
  
  
\---  
  
  
“Onii-chan,” she whispers just as he leans in.  
  
He pauses, and quirks a smile. “Fuuma,” he chastises her. “Fuuma, Kotori-san.”   
  
She breathes out as he hoists her up, stepping between her legs and balancing her between himself and the wall. Her legs curl around his hips and she clings to him.   
  
The word is on her lips, and he gives her a look. She whispers, quietly, “Fuuma-san.”  
  
“That’s better,” he says with a smile and leans in to kiss her. She kisses him, clinging to him, and he slides into her, takes her up against the wall.   
  
  
\---  
  
  
“Must you leave?” she whispers, hair in her face as she lifts her head from the pillow to watch him. He’s sitting on the edge, watching her.  
  
After a moment, he reaches out and brushes the hair from her face. Her expression crumbles a little.   
  
“Sorry,” he says. “I can’t stay.”   
  
“I know,” she says, “I’d hoped maybe—well.”   
  
“You’ll find your brother,” he tells her, because, for once, he’s not sure what he can say. For once, he wants to say something to make someone feel better. He cups her cheek, strokes his thumb along the arch of her cheekbone. “I know you will, Kotori-san.”   
  
She nods, closing her eyes and leaning into his touch. His fingers thread into her hair and he leans over, kissing her softly on the mouth. She responds, a soft hitch of breath noting her surprise. He kisses her for a long time, far longer than he’d intended—but he’s having a hard time pulling away from her.   
  
They kiss for a long time, and the kisses melt away to his lips against her jaw, her neck, down across her collarbone as he peels away the fabric of her nightgown. Her hands pull, clumsy and unsure, at his own clothes, stripping him down.   
  
He stays for a few hours longer than he’d intended.   
  
  
\---  
  
  
She pushes down against him, snapping her hips just a little. Her hair tumbles over her shoulders, pooling across his chest. She looks down at him, mouth parted, panting.   
  
He can’t take his eyes away from her.   
  
  
\---  
  
  
She’s crying when he steps out of the house and into the expanse of the garden. She lingers near the doorway, blinking away her tears as best she can and smiling.   
  
He holds out his hand to her and she goes to him. He kisses her forehead.   
  
“Perhaps we’ll meet again,” he says, but doubts it. He’s never crossed the same world twice.   
  
In her heart, she probably understands this, too. She nods, mutely.  
  
Then leans up and kisses his cheek, then his other cheek, and then lingers against his mouth.   
  
He pulls away with a smile.   
  
“I’m sure you’ll find him again, first, though,” he says.   
  
She nods her head. Smiling through her tears.   
  
“Goodbye, Fuuma-san,” she says.   
  
He kisses her one last time and whispers a quiet, “Goodbye.”  
  
And then he disappears.


End file.
